


here's my heart (and a book)

by soobiscuits



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, have a jolly markhyuck december y'all!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-05 03:10:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16802458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soobiscuits/pseuds/soobiscuits
Summary: Mark writes about Donghyuck. Or, alternatively, snapshots of Mark and Donghyuck's December.





	1. Chapter 1

_If I wrote a book about you and how wonderful you are, I would write it everywhere._

\---

It’s cold. The daily below-zero temperature is something December had brought with it, and Mark wraps the comforter tighter around himself. He reaches under his jumper (last year’s Christmas gift from Donghyuck’s mother) and pulls the zipper of his sweater up all the way to his neck. He then jams his chin in it. To say that he’s freezing is an understatement. 

A cold draft suddenly blows into the apartment and even though Mark has camped himself in the bathroom and shut the door and tiny window (desperate times call for desperate measures), the chill still manages to reach him. He greatly laments not heeding his boyfriend’s advice to fix the bloody broken lock on the window in the living room. And now, as he works from home (because of a cold, his _reward for being dumb and stubborn_ [in Donghyuck’s words]), he’s paying the price. 

Although already bundled in four layers, the pesky cold still proves too much for Mark to handle and he sneezes _hard_. He wonders why his nose hasn’t already detached from his face with all this intense sneezing that’s been happening all day. He doesn’t need to look at the mirror to know that he must resemble Rudolph (or because Donghyuck had cackled at him in the morning).

Mark goes back to the spreadsheet on his laptop (which he’s plonked atop of the toilet bowl lid), only to groan when it alerts him of its dying battery. In a moment of panic (and stupidity), Mark wildly scans the bathroom, eyes searching for charge points. He stops when panic seeps out of him, a hand coming up to smack his forehead. “What are you doing, Mark Lee,” he mutters. “Brain damaged from spreadsheets and the cold, huh.”

Still, Mark entertains the (dumb) thought of installing charge points in the bathroom. If he could, this place would be a brilliant workplace. A piece of pink fabric in the bathtub catches Mark’s eyes and he reaches for it. Only to drop it right back into the tub when he recognises it as his boyfriend’s boxers.

Okay, maybe not that hygienic as a workplace.

Since his laptop is as good as dead and he’s actually a tad hungry, Mark decides to get out of there. With his laptop balanced precariously on a hand and the corners of his comforter bunched in the other, he gets ready to shuffle out. At the door, Mark suddenly stops and sighs sufferingly. Turning back to look at the bathtub (and the piece of undergarment that’s probably soiled), he mutters a _why did I fall for him_ before dropping the comforter and Mark reaches for Donghyuck’s boxers. He pinches it with his fingers and holds it far from him.

(On a good day, Mark wouldn’t be fussed over handling his and Donghyuck’s dirty laundry since he’s the Laundry Sweetie [in Donghyuck’s words], but it seems today isn’t one of those days.)

After dumping the laptop on the coffee table in the living room and throwing Donghyuck’s boxers in the laundry hamper _and_ going back to the bathroom to retrieve his comforter and depositing it on the couch, Mark finally slinks into the kitchen. Tummy growling, he opens a couple of cardboards and the fridge, assesses the food items they have. Mark settles for canned mushroom soup.

It’s only when he’s trying to turn on the stove does Mark remember. Moments later, the can of mushroom soup is returned to its place in the cupboards and Mark is munching on cereal in milk. Cold cereal is the last thing he wants to be eating but Mark would rather not risk setting the kitchen, or the apartment for that matter of fact, on fire. That _one time_ he set a piece of kitchen towel ablaze was more than enough. (Mark refuses to speak of the countless times he burnt eggs. _Eggs_.) So, yes, he’ll gladly wait for his boyfriend to come back and whip up dinner.

Speaking of him. “Strange,” Mark mutters as he eyes the analog clock on the living room wall. “It’s been two hours and the market isn’t even that far.” He shoves a spoonful of cereal and milk into his mouth. “Why isn’t he back yet?”

It’s as though Mark has said the magic words, for in the next second he hears the front door unlocking and an ever-familiar voice rings out–

“Sweetie, I’m home!”

–and warmth instantly washes over Mark.

Even though the comforter around him has slid off his shoulders and left him bundled in only three layers, Mark doesn’t feel like heat is leaving him and that his body temperature is dropping. If anything, he feels warmer, body heating up. It’s not hard to know why. 

“Cereal,” Donghyuck deadpans as he traipses over to Mark and looms over him. Mark tilts his head up and gives his boyfriend a sheepish smile. Donghyuck ignores it. “Don’t we have canned soup? I’m pretty sure we stocked up on ramyun, too, babe.” 

Mark pouts at Donghyuck’s disapproving tone but shoves yet another spoon of cereal into his mouth. He’s about to speak when he meets with Donghyuck’s eyes. They’re narrowed. Mark promptly shuts up (not that he’s said anything in the first place) and starts chewing, utterly cowed under his boyfriend’s glare because if there’s anything Donghyuck detests the most, it’s Mark talking with food in his mouth. 

(In Mark’s defence, he blames Donghyuck’s company dinner. It allowed Donghyuck to dress up and made him so fucking handsome that evening [not that he isn’t usually, _but_ ]. 

For that dinner, Donghyuck had cleaned up nicely. He brought out his two-piece suit and shiny dress shoes. He artfully styled his hair and combed the strands that usually obscured his forehead up and away from it. And while Donghyuck does makeup on a daily basis for his internship and on dates with Mark, it was nothing compared to what he had done that evening. 

For, _oh god_ , not only had he lined those beautiful eyes of his with kohl, he’s smeared his eyelids with a palette of dark, glittery eyeshadows Mark hasn’t seen before. 

[“Yeah, the palette’s new. Bought it for the dinner.” was Donghyuck’s reply when Mark asked him about it over breakfast the following morning. 

Then, he smirked. “I knew it’d fuck you up.”]

That night, Mark saw an entire universe on Donghyuck’s face. There were stars around and _in_ his eyes, and a constellation over his cheeks since Donghyuck never conceals the splatter of moles on his face. [Which he only started doing after Mark kept wiping the concealer off his boyfriend’s beauty marks and kissing them amidst Donghyuck’s protests of _no public display of affection, Mark!!_ ]

Donghyuck looked so damn fucking beautiful that evening, Mark wanted to cry and sing praises and kneel in front of his gorgeous boyfriend and worship him—exaggerations, but Mark _did_ kneel down to lace Donghyuck’s dress shoes. 

Enveloped in his awe of Donghyuck, Mark forgot about the sugared donut his mouth was full of and all but spluttered, “Fuck, you’re hot.”

His barely-chewed pieces of donut flew out of his mouth and onto the carpet. 

Donghyuck was not pleased.)

“What do I do with you, sweetie…” Donghyuck sighs, fingers coming up to pinch his nose bridge.

Mark swallows the cereal in his mouth. “Let me finish my cereal in peace?” 

The deadpanned expression on Donghyuck’s face is, as always, impressive and Mark’s certain he shouldn’t have said that. But what’s done is done. Spilt milk can’t be returned to the carton.

“I need a drink,” Donghyuck abruptly says and he makes his way to the kitchen, seemingly to retrieve a can of beer. Mark knows there’s a pack of six in the fridge; they did just go to the supermarket the day before on Sunday. He sees Donghyuck emerging from the kitchen with a can and he would have been able to crack it open if not for Mark who suddenly launches himself at his boyfriend. They end up on the parquet flooring. 

“Oi, give it back!” Donghyuck yells as he attempts to wrestle the (poor) can of beer out of Mark’s hand. Unfortunately, he’s a tad shorter than his boyfriend and although they’re tussling on the floor, Mark still has the upper hand with his hand stretched beyond his head.

Ignoring his boyfriend’s loud protests, Mark gently pushes Donghyuck off of him and he quickly goes to the kitchen to store the can back into the fridge. He stands in front of it for good measure, in case Donghyuck gets any ideas of wanting the alcohol back. The glare on Donghyuck’s face is very telling; Mark’s not taking any chances. He deadpans, “No one drinks in broad daylight.”

Donghyuck’s face immediately warps into that of disbelief. “I do! And daylight is almost ending!”

Mark knows when he’s being out-argued (which happens more often than not because _Donghyuck_ ). So, he promptly ends the conversation with a fake cough and says, “Well, no drinking for you or have you forgotten how we met? When you got drunk and was _almost_ assaulted by that drunk man–” 

The disbelief on Donghyuck’s face grows. “It was one time!” He pushes himself off the floor. “I was drunk _once_ and you make it sound like I’ve committed a crime,” Donghyuck hisses as he stomps into the kitchen and crowds onto Mark, face glaring up at him.

“One time is enough!” Mark doesn’t back down (not when he knows he’s _taller_ and he, well, usually wins most [read: 6%] of their arguments). He glares back. “And if I wasn’t jogging on that path that night who knows what would have happened to you–”

“You don’t know what would have happened–”

“And after I saved you, you even asked me to stay to protect you while you continued to drink and rant to me.”

“… Dumbest decision I ever made,” mutters Donghyuck. There’s a defeated expression on his face and Mark knows the argument is _almost_ over. “For the record, I was drunk.”

The pout on Donghyuck’s face is, as always, adorable and Mark can’t help but smile, fondness defining his expression. He’s not truly angry at his boyfriend. Probably won’t be but who knows. Maybe one day they’ll have a terrible quarrel and Mark might just actually be mad at Donghyuck but this time, he isn’t. Instead, Donghyuck’s growing pout is making him want to kiss his boyfriend’s lips. 

Which Mark does, catching Donghyuck off-guard by dipping his head down for a quick peck on the lips. He pulls away with a pout of his own as he mock-disappointingly says, “Are we truly having this argument six years six months and twenty-eight days into our relationship, Hyuck?” 

“…”

Then, what happens next occurs as naturally and easy as though it’s happened a whole lot of times before this. Mark opens his arms at the same time Donghyuck steps into them and presses his forehead against Mark’s as Mark wraps his arms around his boyfriend. Two pairs of eyes meet, fondness and affection spilling out and onto cheeks itching to rise.

“I’m sorry.”

Like clockwork, both Mark and Donghyuck apologise at the same time. And, then, their itching cheeks are allowed to rise as smiles form on their faces.

Mark’s lips are brushing against Donghyuck’s when he whispers against them, “May I kiss you, sweetheart?”

Rolling his eyes (fondly), Donghyuck whispers back a _yes of course doofus_ before Mark presses his lips onto his boyfriend’s.

Suddenly, Mark’s stomach growls. He buries his face into Donghyuck’s neck when Donghyuck barks out in laughter.

“How does french toast sound for tea break, and pizza for dinner sound?”

“Perfect,” replies Mark as he leans into for another kiss.

(“How does a french kiss sound right now?”

“You do know that I’m trying to make you tea break, right?”

“Fine. I’ll just…”

“Ugh, _fine_. Come back here and fucking shove your tongue down my throat, Mark Lee.”)

\---

_With the bubbles in your bath water, I would spell out that you are adorable._

\---

“I swear to god, Lee Donghyuck.”

“No!”

“Come here!” 

“No! The answer is still no!”

“I swear–” Mark lunges at his boyfriend, his head barely missing the edge of the coffee table as he lands on the carpet in a heap and with a loud _oof_. “LEE DONGHYUCK!”

Peering into the living room from the doorway, Donghyuck sticks out his tongue in mischief. “You can yell at me all you want, sweetie, but my answer is still a big, fat NO.”

“It’s just a bath,” says Mark exasperatingly as he rolls over to lie on his back, eyes darting to look at his cheeky, misbehaving boyfriend. For a split second, Mark once again wonders _why did I fall for him?_

“It’s not just _a_ bath!” Donghyuck shrieks. “It’s a bath taken with one of your _weird_ bath bombs! I don’t wanna smell like a new car!”

Mark is offended. Those _weird_ bath bombs were birthday gifts from his mother (amongst all the other bath essentials and food items he’d gotten in the mail from his parents in Canada). Also, having sniffed every single one of those bath bombs, Mark genuinely likes their scents. He’s 100% (read: 66%) certain that none of them smell like new cars. (Or at least to his nose they don’t.)

“It’s just _one_ bath, Hyuck.” 

“One bath too many!” Donghyuck immediately retorts. He’s still hiding behind the living room doorframe, fingers cutely curled around the wooden structure.

Mark sighs. “Okay. Fine.” Pushing himself up to a sitting position, Mark looks at Donghyuck straight-on, eyes unblinking. “If you don’t want to smell like a new car, then what do you want to smell like?” 

A thoughtful expression flits onto Donghyuck’s face. “Hmm,” he hums, an index coming up to tap at his chin. “Christmas?”

“How does one smell like Christmas?” Mark wonders, tone incredulous. “You wanna smell like… Santa Claus?”

An emotion akin to horror instantly floods Donghyuck’s scrunched-up face. “Ew, what!? No! I– I don’t want to smell like an old geezer!” He sticks his tongue out at Mark again. “Anyway, if you want me to take a bath with a bath bomb, make sure it smells like Christmas!” 

With that, Donghyuck disappears from the doorway, leaving behind a confused Mark. 

_Where do I find Christmas-scented bath bombs??_

And, most importantly, _what does Christmas even smell like??????_

A bath bomb sails through the air in a beautiful arc and… lands in the bin next to Mark with a loud _thunk_. 

Mark absentmindedly peers into the bin, heart sinking at the sight of the new ecru-coloured arrival. Apparently, toffee nut doesn’t smell like Christmas. He sighs. Six down, twenty-two to go. 

Pain suddenly erupts at the back of his head. Two seconds later, a coffee-coloured bath bomb (tauntingly) rolls into Mark’s field of vision. Christmas doesn’t smell like coffee either, huh.

“Sorry,” Donghyuck apologises; Mark doesn’t hear _any_ note of an apology in his boyfriend’s tone. “Your big head was in the way.”

Mark frowns. “Rude.”

“Sweetie, what’s rude are these bath bombs,” retorts Donghyuck. He brings up a green-coloured bomb up to his nose. A sniff. “These— _ugh, artificial pine scent_ —wannabe Christmas bath bombs.”

The _thunk_ of that (poor) bath bomb landing in the bin doesn’t faze Mark as he, for the umpteenth time in that hour, sighs. “They’re all from the store’s Christmas collection, Hyuck.”

Donghyuck snorts. “ _Some_ Christmas collection.”

Mark bites on his lower lip as Donghyuck sends yet another bath bomb sailing into the bin. He bites down harder when another leaves his boyfriend’s hands after a sniff. And the pressure on Mark’s lower lip only increases with every rejected bath bomb.

“C’mon, sweetheart.” Mark pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “ _One_ has to smell like your definition of Christmas.”

“Well,” Donghyuck drawls. “I do have a bath bomb that smells like my definition of Christmas.” There’s a glint in Donghyuck’s eyes and a knowing smirk on his face. In his hands is a bath bomb that Mark doesn’t recall purchasing alongside the ones he got at the store. He would have remembered its colours of red and green if he did. Donghyuck must have gotten it on his own.

At his boyfriend’s sudden change of demeanour, Mark unconsciously gulps, inexplicably feels nervous. “Y-Yeah, and what s-scent is that bomb you’ve got there?”

“Why don’t you find out when I take a bath?”

(“I’m surprised you didn’t visit me in the bathroom just now, sweetie.”

“Says the person who _locked_ the door.”

“Aww, is my baby upset?”

“… No.”

“You are!”

“I’m not!”

“You are~”

“I’m– Why do you smell like watermelon?” 

“Because that's the scent of the bath bomb, duh.”

“Watermelon doesn’t smell like Christmas.”

“To you, it doesn’t. But to me, sweetie, it does.”

“And… why’s that?”

“Mm, because watermelons are your favourite fruits and you smell like one most of the time. And since my definition of Christmas is you, naturally my definition of a Christmas scent would be a watermelon scent.”

“… Cute.”

“Thanks, sweetie, I know.”

“… My definition of Christmas is you, too, Hyuck.”

“Great! Does this mean you’ll be willing to take a bath with a sunflower-scented bath bomb?”

“Sur– Wait, what!?”)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! 
> 
> while i'm not new to nct (doyoung has had my heart since without u and hyuck burst in with his fucking impressive high note in go and never left), i am new to writing for them so any constructive comments will be greatly appreciated! 
> 
> also, i need to have more nctzen friends so please come yell with me about markhyuck (or dojae) on twitter: soobiscuits
> 
> have a jolly december ahead y'all! ^^


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter's a little spicy hehe
> 
> enjoy!

_I would write that you are mesmerising with the raindrops on the window panes._

\---

“I can’t believe the weather would do me dirty like this by raining on Christmas shopping day!”

At his boyfriend’s whine, Mark glances up from the catalogue he has in his lap. Donghyuck has his forehead rested against the window pane, and the forlorn way he’s staring out of the closed glass windows with a huge pout on his lips makes Mark chuckle. “You do know that we have a car, right, sweetheart?” he says, before going back to skimming through the pages, eyes pausing on a bag of mistletoe-shaped chocolates. 

“Driving in the rain is dangerous.”

“Mm, we can take a bus.”

“And put my life in a stranger’s hands?”

Mark doesn’t answer immediately. Smiling, he flips to the next page. Ooh, a mini Christmas tree with tiny baubles. “There’s always the subway.”

“The tunnels are gonna flood.”

The way Donghyuck keeps retorting and how high-key whiny his tone is would have pissed off people who do not know him (tested and proven, 100% accurate), but as someone who has known Donghyuck for almost three decades ago (and has suffered _worse_ ), Mark isn’t affected. If anything, he thinks that this side of Donghyuck is really adorable.

“Why don’t you drive today, then?” asks Mark as he shuts the catalogue and sets it aside on the coffee table. He scoots over to his boyfriend, circling his limbs around him before planting a feather-light kiss on Donghyuck’s nape. “I’ll be glad to die in your hands, Hyuck.”

Donghyuck immediately slaps Mark on the arm. “That was an unnecessary comment, Mark Lee! No one’s gonna die.” 

Mark moves his head until he’s able to see his boyfriend’s face, his fingers itching to lift the corners of Donghyuck’s lips when he spots a small frown. Though, Mark’s heart swells when he sees Donghyuck gently rubbing at the reddening spot on his arm. He’s so endeared by his boyfriend’s affections that Mark doesn’t stop himself from saying—

“It’s true, Hyuck. I would put my life in your hands.”

—those heartfelt words.

A moment of silence. Then, Donghyuck drops his head and mutters, “Shut up.” He continues to rub at Mark’s arm. “Just shut up, you idiot.”

While Mark can’t see if his boyfriend’s cheeks are painted a pretty pink (as they always are whenever Donghyuck’s embarrassed), he notices a pair of reddening ears instead and fondness washes over him. Donghyuck is so lovable. Mark loves him so damn much.

“I can’t believe you would do me dirty like this by making me carry all these bags with one hand, Mark Lee!”

The cute pout on Donghyuck’s face causes Mark to laugh, affection for his boyfriend so crystal clear in the smile that appears after. “Then, shall we not hold hands, sweetheart?” And he teases Donghyuck by relaxing his grip on their interlaced hands. The way Donghyuck’s grip immediately tightens on Mark’s hand makes Mark’s heart swell, and he ignores the slight pain of Donghyuck’s nails digging into his knuckle to focus on the loud whimper that accompanies Donghyuck’s panic-stricken expression. He’s… so damn cute _ugh_. Donghyuck is seriously testing Mark’s threshold of cuteness tolerance today.

“I-I didn’t say anything!” Donghyuck splutters, clearly embarrassed. His face is utterly red, the pretty shade of crimson rapidly spreading to his neck and to the tips of his ears; it doesn’t conceal Donghyuck’s beautiful constellation of moles, though. “You didn’t hear any complaints from me!”

Mark knows that Donghyuck isn’t being intentionally adorable (for the lack of another word in Mark’s terribly outdated dictionary to describe his boyfriend), but he _is_ and Mark can’t help but dip his head down to peck Donghyuck quickly on the apple of his cheek. He doesn’t pull away, a knowing smile forming against his boyfriend’s skin when Mark feels his lips suddenly getting warmer. 

“Stop being so cute, Duckie,” Mark whispers, low and husky. “I don’t want us to end up in a police station because of you.”

Donghyuck’s response is instantaneous. His face reddens significantly as though he’s drenched with red paint. Donghyuck’s pace also hastens, and Mark laughs _loudly_ despite being dragged, his sneakers squeaking against the tiles of the mall and thereafter the concrete of the underground carpark. He doesn’t stop laughing even as Donghyuck unlaces their hands to dig into Mark’s back jeans pocket for the car key, unlocks their jeep, and dumps all their groceries at the back. Mark’s obnoxious laughter only halts when he feels a hard pinch on both his cheeks, a yelp of pain interrupting his wheezing as he mock-glares at the (good-looking) young man standing in front of him.

“What was that for!” 

“Done laughing, sweetie?” Donghyuck’s tone is sweet, _too_ sweet, and Mark knows he’s crossed a line. Another indication that Donghyuck’s displeased is the frown on his face. “Can we go home now?”

Without replying his boyfriend, Mark automatically reaches up to Donghyuck’s face, the tips of his fingers prodding at the corners of Donghyuck’s lips, gently pushing at them to turn that frown upside-down. Thankfully, they’re pliant and moments later there’s a small (forced) smile on Donghyuck’s face. 

Mark returns the smile with a smile of his own, albeit a tentative one. “Shall we head home, sweetheart?” he asks, tone cautious. 

Donghyuck shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m not the one driving.” 

“But,” Mark starts. “You’re the one with the keys.” And he drops his hands from Donghyuck’s face to grab onto his hands. Mark swings them playfully. “How can I drive us home without the car keys?”

What seems like enragement washes over Donghyuck, and his face distorts into that of disbelief. Donghyuck’s expression shouldn’t be endearing, what with his eyes blown wide and his mouth gaping like a goldfish, but somehow Mark finds it so. (It’s nothing to worry about, though. It’s just one of the uncountable number of times Mark realises he’s so damn fucking whipped for his boyfriend. He doesn’t know how he’s going to live without Donghyuck. He really doesn’t.)

So, it’s no surprise that Mark does what he does the moment Donghyuck opens his mouth (probably to holler something along the lines of _how dare you Mark Lee the nerve of you to accuse me!!_ ). His lips meet with Donghyuck’s, the press light and soft.

The fit perfect.

It’s also not a surprise when Donghyuck sighs into the kiss seconds later, his lips pressing back against Mark’s. Eyes flutter shut, cheeks begin to pink. The release of their hands is simultaneous—Mark slipping his into Donghyuck’s back jeans pockets to pull his boyfriend closer while Donghyuck circles his around Mark’s neck, fingers naturally threading into Mark’s hair. 

The kiss escalates. Lips part, tongues meet, and warm breaths are exchanged. Donghyuck backs Mark up, an adorable giggle slipping out after Mark lets out a hiss when his back unceremoniously hits the door. In response to his boyfriend’s mischief, Mark sucks on Donghyuck’s tongue hard. An ever-familiar high-pitched whine is music to his ears. 

Unfortunately, Mark hadn’t expected Donghyuck to _tug_ at his hair. He lets out a low moan, the sound eagerly swallowed by Donghyuck and his delicious lips. Mark’s hands in Donghyuck’s back jeans pockets start to fidget, fingers itching to _do something_.

Donghyuck suddenly stops kissing Mark, removing his red, swollen, and spit-slicked lips from his boyfriend’s equally ruined lips with a dirty, loud _pop_. He softly chuckles when Mark pouts with a _harrumph_. “Aww, sweetie,” whispers Donghyuck as he leans forward, edging his face close to Mark’s. His fingers are still in Mark’s hair, lazily scritching at his scalp. “Still wanna kiss?”

The distance between their faces are almost non-existent, their lips dangerously close to one another, and although Mark has been in this situation, in this position—backed up to a wall or something by Donghyuck—loads and loads of times in all his years of being with his playful boyfriend, he still finds himself inexplicably nervous. There’s just something _nerve-wracking_ about being in the same space as Donghyuck. 

The Donghyuck whom he knew since they were infants; the Donghyuck who threw the first punch at the bully who laughed at Mark’s insistence at being called by his English name back in kindergarten; the Donghyuck who would eat all the ketchup that appeared on Mark’s food (in exchange for the cucumbers in his); the Donghyuck who fought off idiots who thought Mark was a geek and a push-over during his years of braces and acne; the Donghyuck who would watch movies with him, not caring about his own genre preferences because _I’ll always follow you and watch whatever you want to watch, Mark_ ; the Donghyuck who would unabashedly nestle himself into Mark’s side, head resting on a shoulder, arms around Mark’s waist, legs thrown over his thighs; the Donghyuck who rendered Mark speechless for the first time during prom when he emerged from his room in a handsome two-piece suit set, the white dress shirt highlighting his beautiful chocolate-coloured skin, the black vest and pants accentuating the curves of his body, the make-up on his face emphasizing his delicate features.

The Donghyuck who makes Mark want to shrivel up and _die_ each time he smiles, giggles, or laughs, the expressions and sounds he makes absolutely beautiful and Mark falls in love over and over and _over again_.

Mark licks his lips, a clear indication of his nervousness. “U-Uh,” he stutters (yet another _clear_ sign of how [stupidly] tense he is), eyes darting to Donghyuck’s lips. “Ye– I mean, n-no?” 

_Fuck_. He wasn’t supposed to stutter, wasn’t supposed make his words sound like a question, but Mark can’t help it. This is just one of the countless times he can’t seem to speak coherently when in the presence of the formidable Lee Donghyuck.

Yet another of Donghyuck’s adorable giggle graces Mark’s ears and Mark barely stifles a moan when Donghyuck parts his lips, revealing his pretty set of teeth, before edging his face _fucking closer_ to Mark’s. He gently bites and pulls at Mark’s lower lip, tongue sensually swiping across the indent he made on Mark’s lip. 

“Make up your mind, _Markie_ ,” Donghyuck drawls. “We ain’t got all day.”

It’s infuriating, the smirk on his face. It doesn’t waver, not when Mark growls in warning at being treated like this. It doesn’t waver when Mark curls his fingers in Donghyuck’s back jeans pockets, fingertips digging into the curve of his boyfriend’s plump ass. Mark hears it in his boyfriend’s mocking whisper of _I thought you didn’t want to end up in a police station_ , and it further riles him up, inexplicable anger sharply rising with the breathy cackle that follows. 

“ _Hyuck_ …,” Mark warns. “Don't–”

It’s as though he’s said the magic words and broke the enchantment enveloping them both.

For in the next moment, Donghyuck completely removes himself from Mark, and Mark only   
snaps out of his reverie only when he hears the noise of a door being shut, the sounds of a window being rolled down, and an ever-familiar voice rings out next to his head, right at his ear. Years of hearing Donghyuck’s unique(ly beautiful) voice is the reason why Mark hasn’t gone deaf in either ear.

“MARKKKKKKKKK, GET IN THE CAR RIGHT NOW AND DRIVE US HOMEEEEEEEE!”

Mark sighs, ears hurting (years of this have not made his ears immune). He gives his boyfriend an _okay_ sign with his fingers anyway while turning around to open the door to the driver’s seat. He doesn’t quite manage to successfully open the door in the next couple of seconds though, effectively rendered speechless by the sweet kiss that Donghyuck plants on his lips. 

And Mark is once again at a loss for words when his _aww why you so cute Duckie_ behaviour is rewarded with one of Donghyuck’s beautiful laughs. 

(“Oh! Sweetie, look! A rainbow!!”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, cool.”

“I should have known better than to expect a way more enthusiastic reaction from you, Mark- _unamused_ -Lee.”

“What? I said it was cool, didn’t I?”

“I guess I’ll always have to be the more expressive party in this relationship, huh.”

“And that’s why we’re together, sweetheart. Because opposites attract.”

“… You say the darnest things, Mark Lee.”

“Is it not the truth? You’re like the rainbow in the cloudy sky that’s me. You brighten up my life, Hyuck.”

“S-Shut up! Your analogy sucks!”

“That’s not what the blush on your face says, sweetheart~”

“Just– Just drive us home! _God_ , what’s wrong with you today.”

“Must be the rain. It’s probably magical.”

“… Damn rain.”) 

\---

_With the candies decorating your birthday cake, I would write that you are sweet._

\---

Mark’s confusion is piqued when he returns home from work to an empty apartment. 

“Strange,” he mutters as he awkwardly scratches his neck, his holler of _I’m home sweetheart!_ unanswered and echoing in the silence of the space. Mark shuts the door, the sound of the lock sliding shut behind him while he toes off his work shoes…

…next to Donghyuck’s own (identical but one size smaller). Mark’s brows furrow. Donghyuck’s home? He’s supposed to be though, if the last text he sent to Mark holds true. The rare promise of Donghyuck cooking the jjachigye Mark loves was the reason he uncharacteristically got off work early to return home in time for dinner. Yet, Mark doesn’t detect any aroma indicating that his favourite food is cooking. In fact, he doesn’t smell anything at all.

Stepping off dirtied white tiles and onto parquet flooring, Mark slips his feet into his room slippers. He trips over something. It’s Donghyuck’s room slippers. Mark feels even more confused. 

“Hyuck?” Mark tries again. Perhaps his boyfriend is in the bathroom taking a shower, the water sounds drowning out his holler. Mark makes a beeline to said space, only to be greeted with an empty bathroom. A pink face towel, which Mark haphazardly threw _somewhere_ after wiping his face dry, is in the sink. Donghyuck’s green one neatly hangs on its rack. 

Mark proceeds to their bedroom next, half-expecting his sleepy bear of a boyfriend to be in their bed. Smiling, he bursts into the room shouting, “Baby, I’m home!” 

Uh. 

The smile on Mark’s face drops. Their bed is the same as it had been this morning, neat and tidy after Donghyuck made it. There’s no ~~bear~~ Donghyuck sleeping on it.

Mark checks the rest of their apartment to no avail. Donghyuck is nowhere to be found. Apart from his work shoes, there’s no other sign of Donghyuck having returned home. It’s all very strange and Mark is starting to be concerned. 

It’s when he has trudged back to the shoe cabinet, his keys safely deposited into the small metal bowl atop of it— Donghyuck’s keys aren’t in it either—does something dawn on him. 

What if Donghyuck got kidnapped?

At the thought of that, unadulterated fear washes over Mark. _Donghyuck… kidnapped? The love of my life in the hands of bad people who could do any-fucking-thing to him?_ Panic overwhelms Mark, causing his mind to come up with all sorts of wild circumstances that all end up with his boyfriend dead in a ditch somewhere (no thanks to Donghyuck who once joked that _if_ he was kidnapped, he’d probably be left to die in a ditch). Thinking about Donghyuck’s death doesn’t help Mark _at all_. It drastically intensifies Mark’s panic and that only makes everything much, much worse.

Trapped in his own sphere of fear and anxiety and uneasiness, Mark doesn’t realise that he’s moving on autopilot. As though enchanted by a spell, he mindlessly shuffles towards the front door, passing the living room and the kitchen (and a bright green post-it stuck to the doorframe). He grabs his keys, unlocks the door. And Mark would have made it out the door if not for the figure that’s standing right in front of him.

“Oh? Sweetie, you’re home!”

If there’s one voice Mark prides himself on remembering and identifying no matter the circumstance, it’s his boyfriend’s. And it’s true, for it was once tested that one time when Donghyuck entered them into a couples’ competition back in university and Mark had to identify his boyfriend’s voice based on a recording that completely tweaked the participants’ voices into that of _fucking chipmunks_. Mark had no idea what Chipmunk Donghyuck said in the recording but there was just something about his recording that was distinctly _Donghyuck_. 

Later when asked by the MC, Mark attributed his victory to luck and all those years of being stuck to _Lee Donghyuck the super glue_ ; Donghyuck had thought of it as the love they shared, in which he fondly coined ‘The Power of Markhyuck’ (complete with all the heart-fingers he adorably shot to Mark while on stage and in front of possibly the entire university). Renjun brings it up sometimes (read: _most of the fucking time_ ) whenever they get together, and Mark would find himself hiding behind a guffawing Donghyuck when Jaemin’s brows start wiggling suggestively. 

Hence, upon hearing the _one_ voice he’d never be able to forget, Mark effectively snaps out of his self-induced trance. His boyfriend’s bright, dazzling smile is the first thing he sees, and relief— _oh, sweet, sweet relief_ —floods Mark. He launches himself forward, arms circling around Donghyuck’s neck, fingers greedily finding purchase in his boyfriend’s dress shirt. Mark buries his face into the crook of Donghyuck’s neck, nose nuzzling past the stiff collar and into familiar warmth. Although there seems to be a thin sheen of perspiration and an odd aroma of pastry lingering on Donghyuck’s skin, his scent is comforting nonetheless, and Mark naturally relaxes, ever so glad to be in his boyfriend’s arms. He doesn’t realise that there’s a silly smile playing across his lips.

“Aww, what brought out this rare side of you, huh,” Donghyuck coos, a hand removing itself from Mark’s waist to tenderly thread into Mark’s hair. “You’re being so cute right now, babe.”

Mark lets out a content hum, rests his face more comfortably onto his boyfriend’s shoulder. “You weren’t home,” he murmurs, arms circling tighter around Donghyuck, fingers digging deeper into the softness of Donghyuck’s dress shirt. “Thought you were kidnapped.”

A pregnant pause. Then–

“ _WHAT_ ,” Donghyuck shrieks. Ignoring Mark’s protests, he pushes Mark away from him but keeps his hands on his boyfriend’s shoulders, fingers gently curling into a dress shirt similar to his own. “Say that again.”

There’s a hint of a smile playing across Donghyuck’s lips and Mark pouts at that. Years of being the recipient of Donghyuck’s assortment of facial expressions tell Mark that his boyfriend’s enjoying this, delighted at Mark’s misery. “You texted that you’d be home but you weren’t and I got worried and I might have panicked and thought of the worst an–”

“Did you imagine me to be dead in a ditch?”

Trust Donghyuck to be _fucking smiling_ while joking about being dead. 

Mark scowls. “It’s not funny, Hyuck.” But he nods anyway, rolling his eyes and sighing exasperatedly when Donghyuck laughs and claps his hands. It’s endearing, the way Donghyuck throws his head back, face scrunching up, and laughs so wholeheartedly. His laughter, albeit childish-sounding, is a melody Mark would never tire of hearing. ( _“And that’s how you know you’re fucking whipped,”_ remarked Jaemin that one time Mark unconsciously blurted out how beautiful Hyuck’s laughter is; Mark had no comeback for that.) 

Okay, but his sweetheart’s laughter is _loud_ and is getting _louder_ with every passing second and embarrassment belatedly washes over Mark when the door next to theirs suddenly cracks opens.

“Hey, Hyuck, you forgot your– Oh, hi, Mark. Back from work?”

Mark turns his head to look at their neighbour, his brows furrowing slightly when he notices how Doyoung’s eyes are red-rimmed and glistening. The usual glint in his eyes is missing, and he looks more exhausted than he usually does. Call it a hunch but Mark reckons that he can’t fault the midnight shifts Dr Kim Doyoung has been assigned at the hospital. Before he can ask about it though, Donghyuck beats him to the punch. 

“Ah! My cake!” Removing his hands from Mark’s shoulders, Donghyuck steps forward and receives the cake that Doyoung carefully hands over. It’s then does Mark see it. The cake is placed on a large plate which he vaguely recognises as one from their own china set. _Huh_ , Mark thinks. _Is that why Donghyuck smells faintly of baked goods? Has he been baking with Doyoung before this?_

But, uh, why does the air also smell of watermelon…?

“Be careful with that,” Doyoung softly chides with a mock disapproving frown when Donghyuck playfully fakes a slip and the cake, red and generously slathered with green icing, _almost_ falls from the plate. “While it’s not a pretty cake, it _is_ something you baked with love, Hyuck. Wouldn’t want something happening to it before Mark tastes it.”

“Baked with love?” Mark questions, snapping his head to Donghyuck in time to witness crimson flooding his boyfriend’s full cheeks. “You baked a cake for me?”

Donghyuck remains silent, his head tilted downwards, eyes pointedly not returning Mark’s searching gaze. If his hands were free of that cake, Mark knows that his boyfriend would be twiddling his thumbs (as Donghyuck always does whenever he feels a tad embarrassed). 

Doyoung chuckles. “He did.” He extends a hand over to Donghyuck’s head and tousles his hair, fingers gently parting the bunches held together with gel and making strands fall over Donghyuck’s forehead and eyes. “This sweetheart baked a cake for you, Mark.”

Mark doesn’t know what to say, honestly. While Donghyuck is exceptionally gifted in the kitchen and is the one who cooks most (read: all) of their meals, he isn’t exactly keen on baking. No thanks to two batches of chocolate chip cookies that Donghyuck screwed up and never knew _why the fuck they taste so sour_.

Mark does, however, know what to do in response to Doyoung’s statement. He bids goodbye to their neighbour with a grin, making a mental note to ask Doyoung about his unusual countenance of exhaustion when he bumps into him in the future, before steering Donghyuck back into their apartment. Once the cake is set down on the kitchen countertop, Mark’s backing his boyfriend up against the fridge, arms circling around waists, lips naturally finding their destination in a sweet kiss. 

“You’re welcome,” Donghyuck breathes out when Mark pulls away moments later.

“Mm,” hums Mark against Donghyuck’s lips. “Now tell me why my baby baked for me when he said that he would never ever bake again.”

A breath of warmth peppers Mark’s lips when Donghyuck scoffs. “‘Never’ is such a strong word. And I’m pretty sure I didn’t say that.” 

“Tell me,” whispers Mark after he mischievously takes a soft bite of his boyfriend’s plush bottom lip.

While Donghyuck seems reluctant to share, Mark knows otherwise. His boyfriend’s just bashful, a facet of Donghyuck that he only reveals to Mark and Mark alone. Years of being the lone recipient of this extremely rare side of Donghyuck has prompted Mark to come up with ways to entice his adorable baby bear out of his cave but if there’s one method that always works, it’s to wait for Donghyuck to speak when he’s ready. Durations vary in situations, but Mark doesn’t mind. When it comes to Donghyuck, Mark has all the time in the world.

It’s when Mark is absentmindedly humming the tune of _Thriller_ does Donghyuck suddenly nose at Mark’s cheek and softly says, “It’s a reward for all those over-time hours you’ve been putting in this past month at work.”

A wide smile forms on Mark’s face even before he realises it. “Is it,” he says, fingers coming up to lightly pinch one of Donghyuck’s cheek before cupping it. His thumb begins to rub circles at the corner of Donghyuck’s eye, fondness seeping into Mark as he takes in the constellation of moles on his boyfriend’s face and the sparkles of the subtle eyeshadow Donghyuck painted on his eyelids that morning. 

Donghyuck nods. “I was supposed to be home with the cake much earlier than now so I could get started on the jjachigye but Doyoung…”

Mark recalls his neighbour’s red-rimmed eyes and waxen visage. “Did something happen? Doyoung wasn’t looking too… good.”

“He thinks Jaehyun’s cheating on him,” Donghyuck immediately replies. The frown on his face is causing Mark’s chest to ache, his heart hurting. “They… haven’t been talking much to each other lately and when Doyoung was doing the laundry this morning he found a lipstick in Jaehyun’s pants pocket.”

“That…” Mark starts, nervousness inexplicably seeping into him. This topic is rather… unapproachable and Mark, frankly, doesn’t know what to think nor what to say.

It seems, though, that Donghyuck knows. “I told Doyoung that it doesn’t prove anything.” He purses his lips cutely, a tiny dent appearing at a corner of his lips. “I told him not to think too much and to ask Jaehyun when he gets home later.” Donghyuck puffs out his cheeks, pouting when Mark playfully prods at the inflation. “There is no good in overthinking.”

Mark smiles at Donghyuck’s sensibility. “Right you are, sweetheart,” he seconds. Then, a fond afterthought. “That was sweet of you to stay back and keep Doyoung company, Hyuck.”

“At the expense of dinner,” sighs Donghyuck. “I’m sorry,” he apologises, head dropping a tad, causing their foreheads to knock into each other’s lightly. Donghyuck mumbles a barely audible _sorry_ at that before continuing, “You even got off work early for it.”

Mark shakes his head. “There’s no need for apologies, sweetheart.” He slides a finger under his boyfriend’s chin to tilt his head up. When Donghyuck refuses, Mark accommodates, dipping his head down to look up at his sulking boyfriend. “I won’t be able to enjoy dinner knowing that it was prepared at the expense of leaving our beloved neighbour alone with his bad thoughts.” Mark affectionately taps the tip of Donghyuck’s nose, shoots him a proud grin. “You did good, baby. That was wonderful of you.”

“… It was nothing,” Donghyuck mumbles. “And, thank you.”

Surging up, Mark captures Donghyuck’s lips, his _you’re most welcome sweetheart_ unsaid but understood.

(“I’m _never_ baking ever again.”

“Aww, c’mon, sweetheart. This cake isn’t that bad–”

“Say that while you look at me, Mark Lee Minhyung.”

“I-It’s not that t-terrib–”

“I _knew_ that a watermelon-flavoured cake wouldn’t work. What was I thinki– Oh! I wonder how Doyoung’s peach-flavoured cake tastes.”

“P-Peach?”

“Yeah, he made it for Jaehyun. If it tasted bad, do you think he’ll throw it at Jaehyun– _Oh god_.”

“Hmm?”

“I hope that scream we heard just now isn’t Jaehyun’s after Doyoung threw the cake at him.”

“Hyuck…”

“What? I can imagine, can’t I.”)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated! ^^
> 
> twitter: soobiscuits


	3. Chapter 3

_With the rays from the sun, I would write that you are radiant._

\---

“I must have been out of my mind when I agreed to this.”

“Nah, sweetie, you weren’t. You are just so damn in love with me.”

“… Technically you’re not wrong,” mumbles Mark as he unloads their stuff from the jeep. Seeing how Donghyuck has chosen to carry the rolled-up mat and the food bag, Mark locks the car, hefts up the remaining duffel and trails after his boyfriend. It’s when he’s taken a step onto the sand does a gust of salty wind blow at them, and Mark can’t help but shiver. Five layers of warmth apparently aren’t enough to withstand the chill that comes with visiting the beach in the middle of December. 

(Mark still strongly thinks that he was out of his mind to have acquiesced to Donghyuck’s request because really, _who goes to the beach when it’s freezing?!_ )

“Here seems like a good spot!” Donghyuck exclaims as he sets down the mat and gestures to the space under a coconut tree. “There’s a little sunshine here so you won’t be too cold, sweetie!” 

And affection at his boyfriend’s consideration would have filled Mark if not for the food bag Donghyuck is suddenly _throwing_ at him.

Mark yelps in surprise, barely catching it. He must look hilarious to Donghyuck—what with that embarrassing yelp and fumbling to catch the bag, causing the duffel strap to slide down and hang limply on a forearm while the food bag is clutched to his chest—because his boyfriend’s laughter suddenly fills his ears. At the familiar sound, fondness washes over Mark; he bites back a smile.

Donghyuck is hiding a smile of his own behind his hands when Mark finally stands in front of him. Pouting (exaggeratingly), Mark shakes his arms to highlight the (two) bags he has. He whines, “Stop laughing at your poor boyfriend and help me, sweetheart.” 

“Let me get the mat out and you can put everything on it,” Donghyuck replies, his bright smile dazzling Mark when he removes his hands from his face. Bending down (and giving Mark a pretty view of _ass_ ), Donghyuck unrolls the mat and dutifully gets the food bag from Mark who gladly gives it over with a loud, relieved sigh. 

Ignoring Donghyuck’s response of a cackle, Mark dumps the duffel next to where his boyfriend has placed the food bag before plonking himself onto the mat. He immediately seeks Donghyuck’s lap, resting his head on a firm, comfortable thigh. Pointedly rubbing at his arms, Mark lets out a whine. “What did you pack in the duffel, Hyuck? It killed my arm.” 

Mark is pretty certain that something must have happened to his head recently because a) he agreed to visiting the beach in the middle of winter, b) he pouted, c) he whined, d) he whined, and e) he actually fucking _whined_. FYI, Mark _never_ whines. Never. Okay, so maybe ‘never’ is a bit of a stretch and while Mark does _show discontentment cutely_ (Donghyuck’s words) at times, he’s never whined this much in such a short time. Mark’s fairly surprised that his boyfriend hasn’t yet jumped at him while screaming _WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY BABY_. 

(Donghyuck most probably wouldn’t do that, but Mark can dream, right?)

“Liar,” says Donghyuck as he flicks his index finger lightly at Mark’s forehead. “If that duffel made your arm ache, you’re not working out hard enough at the gym. And if that’s the case, please cancel your membership. We could use that money elsewhere.” 

“And leave Jaehyun to deadlift alone?” Mark replies, tone mock-incredulous. He shuts both his eyes, wills the pain on his forehead to go away. (It doesn’t.) “I’m not that bad of a friend and neighbour.”

“So, I take it that you’re willing to be a _bad boyfriend_ then,” Donghyuck deadpans, his loud _harrumph_ making Mark crack open an eye. Yet, Mark only has time to take in how his boyfriend’s arms are folded across his chest before his eyes dart up to Donghyuck’s face and then–

Mark almost chokes, a breath lodging in his throat.

He can’t breathe. Mark finds himself unable to inhale, unable to utter a single sound, unable to silence the thundering in his chest. His heart suddenly races, heart rate skyrocketing. And as with all other times Mark is at a loss for words, it’s all because of a particular Lee Donghyuck.

Donghyuck’s consideration of sitting in the sunshine to keep Mark warm is doing wonders for him. The slim rays of yellow that somehow managed to filter through the leaves overhead beams down on Donghyuck. The sunshine sets him aglow, highlighting his facial features. Having only slapped on sunscreen, there’s no makeup concealing Donghyuck’s beauty today. The sunlight brightens his face, making the artful splatter of moles on his face and neck way more visible than usual. 

And at that moment, Donghyuck’s beauty marks seem to be sparkling, glittering against the pretty shade of chocolate that is Donghyuck’s skin. Mark thinks he sees a twinkling constellation on his boyfriend’s face.

“Pretty.”

It was an automatic response to what he sees. It was a barely audible murmur, a remark that was meant for only Mark to hear. Yet, as with all other comments Mark thought only he could hear, it reaches the ears of his boyfriend, and Mark only realises that when he feels heat on his face. The warmth is beyond familiar, as with the gaze he receives when he finally snaps out of his reverie. 

Donghyuck’s eyes are unbelievably fond, and Mark finds himself drowning in the affection that is practically spilling forth. It’s been so many years since they first got together, since Mark stammered his way through his confession to Donghyuck, since Donghyuck replied with a kiss and the tightest hug Mark has ever received. And Mark would be lying if he said that he hasn’t once felt insecure about Donghyuck’s feelings for him. People change over the years, so who’s to say that feelings won’t be affected?

Fortunately, fortunately, _fortunately_ , Mark’s significant other has always been someone who wears his heart on his sleeve, his emotions and feelings for everyone to see. Mark’s Donghyuck isn’t someone who’s afraid to show affection, to let others know how much he loves and care for them. So, whenever Donghyuck—bless him—picks up on Mark’s insecurities, he’d literally wrap himself around the worry wart like a koala to a eucalyptus tree, kiss him sweetly, and whisper so wholeheartedly–

_I love you, Minhyung._

–that Mark can’t believe he ever doubted Donghyuck. That he doubted the love they have for each other.

Enraptured by Donghyuck’s soulful eyes, Mark reaches a hand up to lightly—feather-light—thumb at the glittering constellation on Donghyuck’s face. He doesn't notice how the constellation seems to be getting larger in his eyes, doesn’t know that he’s pushed himself up and off Donghyuck’s lap until the skin below his eyes feels a tad ticklish and there’s a familiar pressure on his lips.

Donghyuck’s eyes are shut, his short but adorable lashes quivering. They flutter erratically, and Mark wishes he could kiss them. Of course, nothing beats Donghyuck’s delicious lips; he could kiss them forever.

They part moments later (because Mark senses that Donghyuck isn’t breathing). And the first thing Donghyuck does is to smack Mark on the arm. “Stop surprising me with kisses, you– you kissing monster!” 

Although Mark wonders if Donghyuck met him halfway in that kiss he doesn’t voice it out, choosing to let his boyfriend maintain his dignity. So, he just nods. “Yes, yes, I’m a kissing monster.” Mark takes a playful bite at Donghyuck’s nose, chuckling when Donghyuck yelps and snaps his head back. “I’m _your_ kissing monster, though.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Am I not? Do you not want me to be… _yours_?”

Donghyuck mock-sighs, but he breaks into a small smile anyway when Mark noses at his cheek. “Yeah, yeah, you’ll be mine, sweetie, and I’ll be yours. There. Happy now?” 

Mark responds with a peck on Donghyuck’s cheek. 

“There’s no way I’m ever going to be able to get rid of you, huh,” says Donghyuck before he lets out a long, suffering sigh complete with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose (like the drama king he is [and Mark loves]).

The knowing grin that forms on Mark’s face shows all his teeth, and the glint in his eyes causes his expression to border on creepy. It isn’t really _that_ scary, because Mark is a _damn good-looking lucky fool_ (Donghyuck’s words). 

“Nope,” replies Mark. “Never.”

Donghyuck scoffs. “You’re lucky I love you, sweetie.” 

“Yeah.” Mark’s smile softens as he gazes at his boyfriend who’s turned his head to look out at the sun-glistened waters. “I’m so lucky. So damn lucky.”

And in the December sunshine, Donghyuck continues to glow while Mark continues to love.

(“Why were you staring so intently at me just now, sweetie?”

“Uh. Well…”

“Was I looking too beautiful again that you spaced out?”

“… Yeah. You were.”

“Hee! You–”

“You were so damn radiant that I couldn’t take my eyes off of you for a second because I’m like a sunflower who needs the sun to live, who needs plenty of sunshine that the sun provides to survive. I’m a sunflower and, Hyuck, you’re my sun. I can’t live without you, sweetheart. I can’t.”

“T-That was– _UGH_ stop making me flustered with your spontaneous confessions, Lee Minhyung! It’s unfair!”

“All’s fair in love and war, Duckie.”

“S-Shut up!”)

\---

_With the beams from the moon, I would write that you are shining._

\---

As Mark glances up from his phone—where he’s been scrolling through his _LOAML <3_ photo album—upon hearing the one voice he’d recognise anywhere, he finds himself thinking (for the _n_ th time) how he’d never be tired of seeing the way Donghyuck brightens up when he catches sight of Mark. 

It’s mesmerising. How Donghyuck’s legs actually react first by breaking into a run before his eyes widen in recognition and suddenly start to sparkle; how the most dazzling smile spreads across his face before he hollers an adorable (and embarrassing) _DUCKIE IS HEREEEEEE_ with his arms flailing wildly; how he closes the short distance between them with a leap of faith, trusting that Mark will catch him. (Of course, he does.)

How Donghyuck rewards Mark with a sweet kiss (and an occasional, accidental _clack_ of teeth) and the most endearing whisper of _hey Minhyung_.

And Mark would only realise that a silly, fond smile has formed on his face after Donghyuck points it out teasingly, fingers mischievously poking at his raised cheeks. Mark can’t help it, though. He can’t help but let his affection for his boyfriend show. It’s practically _impossible_ not to when said boyfriend is Lee Donghyuck.

“What’s for dinner, sweetie?” Donghyuck asks as Mark dutifully opens the passenger door and gestures for his boyfriend to get in. “Can we get Korean today? Jun texted me the address of the one he’s been patronising recently. It must be good if even Jaemin and Jeno says so.” 

It’s been two years since they’ve bought the jeep and while Mark has quickly accustomed himself to the vehicle (since he’s the one who drives it to work after dropping Donghyuck off every morning), Donghyuck still hasn’t been able to get into it without hurting himself in the process. And Donghyuck would have bumped his head on the metal frame of the door if not for the hand Mark has already positioned at that particular spot, a habit cultivated through the numerous times of watching Donghyuck knock his head against the frame.

Mark wordlessly gives Donghyuck a pointed look to which Donghyuck immediately sticks out his tongue in retort. Shaking his head, Mark shuts the door and he makes a move to go round the front of the jeep to get to the driver’s seat when the hood of his padded jacket is being pulled. The sudden action causes Mark to stagger back a step, a hint of panic washing over him. It vanishes in the next second though, when a familiar voice whispers in his ear before an ever-recognisable pair of lips press into his cheek. 

_“Ever so considerate, my love.”_

A large plate of bossam and two bowls of kimchi jjigae later, Donghyuck is dragging a half-amused, half-reluctant Mark to the ice cream joint he’s seen while on their GPS-navigated drive to the hole-in-the-wall Korean place. According to Google Maps (which Mark searched on while Donghyuck was in the washroom), that particular Baskin Robbins is supposedly a couple of stores away from the Korean joint and on the _same_ side of the street. Yet, seeing how Donghyuck had immediately crossed the road after exiting, Mark thinks how dessert would probably be served at a later time than expected.

It’s alright. It’s been a (long) while since they’ve gone out on a weeknight, what with Mark having to work overtime in the past month, and although getting lost sounds horrible, Mark doesn’t mind. Getting lost with Donghyuck sounds absolutely wonderful.

(It reminds Mark of that one time they got lost on their vacation in Kyoto, wandering its streets in search of a temple that was supposedly only _three minutes away from the train station_ [according to Donghyuck’s research]. 

Later, Mark and Donghyuck found out from a kind, Korean-speaking local who owned a bread store near the temple, that the temple was three minutes away from the train station _by bus_.

Donghyuck had been distraught after, feeling extremely apologetic about the time wasted but Mark thought that it was the most memorable experience he’s had on the trip. It wasn’t every day he got to witness his boyfriend being so adorably distressed while attempting to navigate the maze that is one of Kyoto’s oldest neighbourhoods.) 

“Dammit, it’s on the other side of the street!” Donghyuck groans as he points at the Baskin Robbins in question. “We shouldn’t have crossed the road.”

“ _You_ shouldn’t have dragged us across the road,” Mark teases, breaking into laughter at the glare Donghyuck shoots at him. He placates his pouting baby bear with a light peck on the cheek before adding (uselessly), “Also, sweetheart, there’s such an app called Google Maps.” 

“Shut up. No one asked.”

With a pint-sized cup of their favourite flavour—Shooting Star—in the hands of Donghyuck, they exit the Baskin Robbins (Donghyuck vehemently refused to eat there, citing embarrassment and _I’m pretty sure the cabbage head boy was laughing at us_.), heading back to where Mark parked the jeep.

Since they’re unable to hold hands, Mark slips a hand into the back pocket of Donghyuck’s work pants instead, only to frown when he feels a card in it. Donghyuck gives him a sheepish smile when a work access card emerges with Mark’s hand. 

“Oops?” 

“If you’ve lost it…” Mark begins to chastise (like the _old ahjussi_ [Donghyuck’s words] he is). He slides the card into his own wallet since Donghyuck left his in the jeep.

“I wouldn’t! And I didn’t!” Donghyuck exclaims over a mouthful of ice cream. For someone who _hates_ it when Mark speaks with food in his mouth, Donghyuck is extremely oblivious to his own behaviour. “Besides, it’s all your fault anyway.”

“ _My_ fault?” Incredulity washes over Mark. “How?”

“It’s j-just your fault.” 

Donghyuck’s stuttering. That can only mean that he’s a) nervous, or b) embarrassed. Mark highly reckons it’s both. 

“Y-You were standing by the jeep with a hand in your coat pocket and the other holding your phone—”

Yep. It’s both.

“—and you looked so cool and hot at the same time and people were glancing at you when they walked by and I–” Donghyuck abruptly stops talking. His head hangs low and he stuffs into his mouth a huge spoonful of ice cream. 

Mark knows what’s up. Biting back a smirk, he dips his head down to look up at Donghyuck who seems hellbent on avoiding his eyes. The large spoonful of ice cream his boyfriend is about to shove into his mouth gives Mark’s teeth a phantom ache and he quickly pulls the spoon away from Donghyuck’s mouth. 

And Donghyuck lets him, much to Mark’s surprise. He doesn’t comment on it, having sensed that something’s up with his boyfriend and teasing him looks like a bad idea. It’s true that at times Mark enjoys riling Donghyuck up, cracking a grin when his boyfriend fumingly (and adorably) stamps his feet in a tantrum, but he very much prefers a happy, smiling Donghyuck instead. Mark stuffs the (sufferingly huge) spoonful of ice cream into his mouth, wincing when the cold hits him hard.

The street they’re walking on isn’t busy, much of the Friday night crowd attracted to the boardwalk located in the opposite direction of where they’re headed. Mark had wanted to go but decided against it after noticing the fleeting hints of exhaustion appearing on Donghyuck’s face whenever he thinks Mark isn’t looking at him. His boyfriend must have had a tough week and Mark briefly feels guilty for neglecting to check in with him. Besides, the boardwalk isn’t going to disappear; they can always come back another time when Donghyuck doesn’t look like he’s about to collapse. 

They continue to walk in amicable silence, neither willing to address the elephant that’s walking along with them. If Donghyuck doesn’t want to say anything, then Mark isn’t going to, either; he doesn’t want to push Donghyuck, doesn’t want his probing to backfire. Mark does, however, want to hold his boyfriend’s hand since he has the spoon now and one of Donghyuck’s hands is free. 

It might sound crazy—or at least to Jaemin it did—but Mark still feels nervous whenever he thinks about holding Donghyuck’s hands, slipping his fingers into the spaces between Donghyuck’s, pressing his fingertips against Donghyuck’s knuckles. It’s a wonderful feeling, holding Donghyuck’s hands, a feeling that Mark wouldn’t trade for anything else in the world. But it doesn’t help that whenever he wants to hold hands with his boyfriend, he starts sweating. Who would want to hold onto sweaty hands?

Apparently, Donghyuck. 

Mark gasps when a hand slips into his, his fingers being softly pushed apart to accommodate familiar lithe digits. Donghyuck’s fingers are cold, colder than Mark’s and Mark frowns when he realises that. He brings their hands up to his mouth immediately to exhale hopefully-warm breaths onto his boyfriend’s hand. 

“Ever so considerate, Markie,” says Donghyuck, giggling. He playfully jerks their hands away from Mark’s mouth, bursting into laughter when Mark’s head subconsciously follows it. “You looked like a goat just now, sweetie. A goat following the grass that’s running away from you.”

“I thought you said I was a lion!” Mark exclaims. He sticks the spoon into the ice cream that Donghyuck is still holding onto before pulling their hands back to exhale more warm air onto Donghyuck’s hand. “A ferocious lion at that!”

Donghyuck laughs again, the sound melodious. “That was when you were eighteen and had blonde ramyun hair.” He jerks his chin in the direction of Mark’s head. “Now, you’re twenty-eight and you haven’t dyed your hair in years. So, love, I’m pretty sure you’re _not_ a lion.”

Mark immediately pouts, a facial expression that comes to him now as naturally as nuzzling into Donghyuck’s hair first thing in the morning. (The result of having been with Lee Donghyuck, pout extraordinaire, for the past almost-three decades.) 

“Pouts won’t work on me,” Donghyuck says as a finger escapes the clutches of Mark’s hands to stick up, almost poking Mark’s nostril. “Oops, sorry!” 

“You almost caused me to have a nosebleed!” 

A smirk creeps onto Donghyuck’s face then, dangerous and sultry. “I’d rather cause you to have nosebleeds through _other_ means, babe.” 

“Oh my god, s-shut up!”

(“You forgot to continue what you were saying just now, sweetheart.”

“T-There was nothing after that!”

“Really?”

“Re– No… I– I was–”

“Jealous?”

“… Yeah…”

“Mm, I was jealous, too, Hyuck.”

“You?”

“Uh huh, I was jealous. When you were bounding over to me you were literally _shining_ , and everyone was looking at you and I was– I was _jealous_. So, so, so jealous. And angry that people were allowed to witness such a beautiful side of you.” 

“… You really do say the darnest things, sweetie.”

“Only to you, sweetheart. Only to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why did i write mark to be such a sap omg /runs away
> 
> also, LOAML = love of all my lives 
> 
> as always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! ^^
> 
> twitter: soobiscuits


	4. Chapter 4

_And with the stars in the sky, I would write that you are beautiful._

\---

“That tiny star on that tiny Christmas tree is _fucking_ –”

“Language!”

“–adorable!”

Mark lightly thwacks his index against Donghyuck’s nose. “Hyuck, mind your language! We’re in the midst of children!”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes and scoffs. “ _Please_. As if not hearing swear words when I was young prevented me from learning and speaking them.” He waves a hand dismissively. “These kids will get there someday whether their parents like it or not.”

“Still,” says Mark, frowning. “Just… watch your mouth while we’re here, sweetheart.”

Donghyuck chuckles. “Ever the worry wart, my Markie.” He then surges up from where he’s standing next to Mark to peck his boyfriend on the cheek. “Relax, sweetie. We’re in a toy store! Let loose and allow your inner child to come out!” 

Mark pinches Donghyuck’s cheeks when he notices the mischief written all over his boyfriend’s face. “I can’t believe you talked me into coming here,” he says, words a tad muffled as Donghyuck pinches his cheeks in return. “We’re _way_ too old to be shopping for toys.”

“Well,” Donghyuck starts. He removes his fingers from Mark’s face and curls them around Mark’s arm. “ _I_ wouldn’t be here with you today if my young friend Jun wasn’t free today.” And Donghyuck nimbly avoids Mark’s hands as he attempts to grab at Donghyuck. “Oi, no pinching!”

Mark folds his arms across his chest. “Are you implying that I’m… _old_?”

Raising an index, Donghyuck wiggles it while saying, “Ah ah ah, I didn’t say that, Mr Lee. _You_ said it yourself.” And Donghyuck once again dodges Mark’s grabby hands, a bark of laughter slipping past his lips when Mark misses his target and stumbles forward. “Oh, sweetheart. How cute of you to try.”

Mark faintly feels several eyes staring at him as he straightens himself. Embarrassed, he pointedly avoids making eye contact with anyone while pretending to dust (non-existent) dust off his sweater and pants. He takes a step forward in a random direction, only to stagger backwards when Donghyuck circles an arm around his waist and practically drags him in the opposite direction.

“The toy store is this way, _baby_.”

Sounds of many, many, many individual Lego blocks clacking against one another shatter the silence of a previously-tranquil December night.

“Now do you know why I wanted Jun to accompany me?” Donghyuck asks, face tilting up a little to look at Mark. “I needed his artsy fartsy-ness.”

Mark shifts the large, blue IKEA bag from his left hand to his right, mentally lamenting his dumb decision to reject Donghyuck’s offer to help carry one of the three buckets of Lego blocks. Three buckets in a single bag is fucking heavy; Mark regrets everything. “For your information though, Hyuck, _I_ hadn’t wanted to join you. I was dragged there against my will.”

His boyfriend’s (mock) scathing tone doesn’t deter a pretty smile from forming on Donghyuck’s face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetie. I’m pretty sure you followed me.” 

Mark rolls his eyes at Donghyuck’s seemingly innocent facial expression. “Why do I even bother.”

The bout of laughter, beautiful and absolutely melodious, that suddenly comes from Donghyuck easily distracts Mark, and he fails to notice how Donghyuck removes both his hands from where they’ve been hiding from the cold in Mark’s jacket pocket to circle around Mark’s waist. It’s only when Mark feels a familiar weight on his shoulder and warmth peppering the side of his face does he realise that he’s got a koala boyfriend draping on him. 

“Exactly. I don’t know why you bother to argue with me when we both know you can never resist my charms,” says Donghyuck, lashes fluttering. There’s a shit-eating grin on his face. “You can try all you want but you know you’d fall for them at the end of the day, _dear_.” 

Mark knows that he should feel offended at Donghyuck’s assumptions. He should flare up, assert his place in this relationship, and teach his cheeky boyfriend a lesson. Yet, Mark also knows the truth. And it is as Donghyuck has said: Mark falls for his boyfriend’s charms, always. Acceding to Donghyuck is as easy as one-two-three, as natural as breathing and blinking. (It’s not hard to, falling for Donghyuck[’s charms]. Mark willingly and gladly falls every single time.) 

So, it’s not surprising when Mark breaks into a smile. “Shut up,” he says softly, fondly. “Stop reminding me–”

“Of how much you love me?” Donghyuck intercepts. 

The mall that the toy store is located in isn’t far from Mark and Donghyuck’s apartment, about 10 minutes on foot. Donghyuck suggested saving petrol money, said that _it’s been a while since we walked anywhere ugh I’m going to be a fat ass soon so let’s walk to the mall kay sweetie_ , and who was Mark to say no to his adorable, pouting boyfriend? 

(In hindsight, as they stepped out of their apartment building and the fucking freezing December gale mercilessly blew at them, Mark regretted acquiescing to his boyfriend’s request. Why on earth did he choose to brave the cold instead of relaxing in the warmth of his heated jeep?)

And so, they didn’t drive, having chosen to don one of their several pairs of matching sneakers (and socks, and scarves, and beanies [at Donghyuck’s insistence to be _matchy matchy!_ ]) before walking to the mall for brunch. The late morning sun was wonderful to Donghyuck, bathing him in blinding yellow-gold, making him look an angel from the heavens, and causing Mark’s heart to _thump thump thump_ erratically. Born in summer, Donghyuck was always meant to be outdoors, to sparkle and dazzle under the rays of the brightest star in the universe. 

Yet, even now as they head home in the late evening, darkness having fallen early due to winter and the moon has come out to take over the sun in the skies, Mark still thinks that Donghyuck is shining.

The canopy of leaves that grow overhead does nothing to obscure the silvery light emitted by the moon, and thin beams of moonlight filter through, shining onto the dirt paths of the park near Mark and Donghyuck’s apartment building. And as they stroll, hand in hand, footsteps occasionally in sync, Donghyuck lightly bopping his head to a tune he’s softly humming under his breath, Mark can’t keep his eyes off of Donghyuck.

(In hindsight, Mark thinks he should have kept his eyes on the path. Tripping on nothing is embarrassing but being laughed at by Donghyuck is _doubly_ embarrassing. 

But, of course, if his unintentional body gags elicit happiness from his boyfriend, Mark would gladly do it over and over.) 

It is as though the universe favours Donghyuck, as though he’s a son of the heavens above, a gift from the gods themselves. Because how else can Mark explain why the streams of moonlight treat Donghyuck so wonderfully as well, much like how sunlight did. He can’t compare day-Donghyuck to night-Donghyuck, because both Donghyucks are equally beautiful despite one sparkling and bedazzling in the yellow-gold light of the sun while the other glitters and twinkles in the silvery-white light of the moon. 

_Unfair_ , Mark unconsciously thinks.

“It’s unfair how beautiful you are,” he unconsciously blurts out next.

Donghyuck freezes, stops humming his little tune (which Mark later found out to be _Jingle Bells_ ). He turns to look at Mark, eyes blown wide, nose a tad red due to the December cold, lips parted in an emotion that Mark easily recognises as surprise. “W-Wha– Huh?” he stutters, wisps of white appearing in front of his mouth.

Mark most certainly hadn’t meant to let his thoughts slip, but since what’s done is done, he forges forward. Clearing his throat, he says, “I said that it’s unfair how beautiful you are. No matter the time, no matter day or night, you’re always shining.” Then, an afterthought. “In my eyes that is. Not to rain on your parade but you’re only shining in my eyes.”

Silence. Then a peal of giggles that sends Mark’s heart into overdrive. 

“Of course, sweetie,” says Donghyuck. He brings his available hand up to cup Mark’s face, thumb caressing his cheek. “Imagine me shining in Jun or Jeno or Jaemin’s hearts. Yuck!” Donghyuck playfully pinches Mark’s nose. “So, yes, I only shine like a star in _your_ heart, my dear.”

Then, he tip-toes, snaking his arm around Mark’s neck, fingers carding into the hair at the back of Mark’s head. Warmth peppers Mark’s ear and Donghyuck’s lips sensually graze it as he whispers. 

“Because I’m _yours_.”

The weight of the Lego buckets in Mark’s hand suddenly turns feather-light as Mark all but hastily pulls a laughing Donghyuck back to their apartment where he continues to admire his beautiful boyfriend and lets his adoration and affection show. 

(“How the fuck did–”

“Hyuck, language!”

“–we manage to buy two buckets of the same fucking–”

“Hyuck!” 

“–shade of green?”

“… Because we didn’t check?”

“Because you were distracting me with the stupid Thanos glove! And the dumb Iron Man mask, pretending you were Iron Man and making all those _pew pew pew_ sound effects! Ugh, why is my boyfriend such a child.”

“I-I could say the same about you! Who was the one who got all excited over a tiny Christmas tree and _insisted_ that I buy it? Who cares about the tiny star, it’s too small to emit any light!”

“The nerve of you to insult my cute tree, Mark Lee! This is why I wanted Jun instead. He would _never_ judge me like you did. And and and, you already said that _I’m_ the light in your life. So, why do you care about whether that fucking tiny star lights up huh huh huh! Humph!”

“… Aww, is my baby boy jealous of the very star he was gushing over? How–”

“I’m not cute!”

“– _beautiful_. My Donghyuckie is so beautiful, no star can ever compete. He’s the only star I’ll ever need, and I’ll ever want.”

“S-Shut it. Your sweet words won’t get you out of building our now two-tone Lego Christmas tree, _sweetie_.”

“Ah, humbug.”

“Also, you have to go back to the toy store to grab yellow blocks for the star.”

“Mm, how about I just put you at the top of the tree, my pretty star?”

“… Assistant Lee, you’re fired. I’m calling Renjun.”

\---

_I would write that you are lovable in the freckles on your face._

\---

“It’s December! Winter! And there’s rarely any killer sunlight now so how in the world did you get freckles!?”

It’s impossible not to hear Donghyuck’s shriek, especially since they’re in the bathroom—excellent surround sound, mind you—with Mark seated on the lid of the toilet bowl while Donghyuck sits on a stool in front of him and busies himself with prettying up Mark’s face. Although not keen on make-up, citing a sensitive face and laziness to wipe it off at the end of the day ( _“I can clean your face for you, you lazy bum!”_ ), Mark gives in to his boyfriend’s plea and allows his face to be painted on. 

(But only for today because they’re attending a Christmas party held by Donghyuck’s aunt. Mark doesn’t wish to embarrass Donghyuck in front of his family members by showing up with a less-than-handsome appearance. Also, there’s his boyfriend’s strange need to show Mark off. [“I need to show that arrogant cousin of mine that _my_ boyfriend is more good-looking than hers!”] So, yeah.) 

“Ugh. Now I’ll have to balance out the freckles on both cheeks,” grumbles Donghyuck. He picks up a pencil (or what Mark thinks it is) and holds it in front of Mark’s face. “You’re lucky your boyfriend is a make-up extraordinaire, Mark Lee.”

“Why don’t you just cover my freckles with what you used to use to cover your moles?” 

“It’s called a concealer, sweetie.” Donghyuck sighs. “And I’m not going to conceal your freckles because you look… cute with them.”

Mark barely heard that last bit since Donghyuck tapered off to a whisper, but he did, and the corners of his lips can’t help but curl upwards into a grin. “I do?”

“Yeah.” Donghyuck nods. Then, another whisper. “So fucking cute.” 

A wave of affection washes over Mark at the same time something blunt prods his cheek. The fondness he feels doesn’t fade even as the pencil twists on the spot before going away. It happens again on another part of his cheek. Then another, and another. 

Without moving his head, Mark darts his eyes up to look at his boyfriend. He’s greeted by a sight that he hasn’t seen in a while, not since their school days. The look of concentration on Donghyuck’s face is mesmerising, eyes focused and unwavering, jaw tight, lips pressed together. And when Donghyuck suddenly scrunches his nose, Mark can’t help but feel nostalgic. 

He remembers Student Donghyuck, nose scrunching in concentration as he highlighted his business textbooks. Mark also remembers Student Donghyuck, hand raking through his hair as he attempted questions. Donghyuck would also occasionally pull his hair in frustration, especially when he couldn’t solve a question and had no answer to refer to (Mark was a humanities student, so he was of absolutely no help). 

Mark also remembers Student Donghyuck-slash-Mark’s-boyfriend, face in a kissy expression, hands outstretched and fingers wiggling as he whined, _“I need energy to continue on studying! So, boyfriend, won’t you give me a kiss?”_ (Which Mark did because— _sighs_ —almost three decades with Donghyuck and Mark still hasn’t developed an immunity to pouty lips and a saccharinely sweet voice.)

A chuckle slips out of Mark and Donghyuck’s brows immediately furrow. He pauses in his creating of freckles on Mark’s face to frown at Mark. 

“What did I say about not moving?” 

Mark bites on his lower lip, chuckle stifled. There’s still a smile on his face though. “I didn’t move.”

The frown on Donghyuck’s face turns to that of a glower. “Your cheeks moved.”

“Can’t help that my face wanted to smile,” Mark says teasingly. He shrugs. “My sweetheart looked so cute concentrating.”

Donghyuck’s face immediately flushes, the pretty shade of red evident even though his skin is a beautiful chocolate colour. (Random TMI but a young Mark once thought that Donghyuck was drenched in melted chocolate when he was a baby, hence the colour of his sun-kissed skin.) 

“You say–” Donghyuck starts.

“The darnest things?” Mark finishes, smirking.

For his mischief, Mark earns himself a _hard_ prod on his cheek with Donghyuck’s brown brow pencil. Then, when he grumbles and rubs at his pained cheek like a child, Mark also earns himself a melodious laugh and a gorgeous smile and a sweet, sweet kiss.

(“Why don’t I draw freckles on my cheeks, too! Then we’ll match!”

“Mm, won’t it be a little congested on your face then, since you already have a constellation on it?”

“My moles aren’t cute!”

“What did I say about undermining your beauty marks, Hyuck.”

“… But I want freckles, too! I wanna match with my boyfriend!”

“Don’t pout– _Dammit_. Baby, you know I’m not immune to that face of yours.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, babe.”

“Don’t flutter your lash– _Fine_. You may draw some freckles on your face, sweetheart.”

“Yay! You’re the best, Markie!”

“… No, _you’re_ the best, Duckie.”)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i usually update on saturdays but i'll be real busy tomorrow so this week's an early update! hope y'all enjoyed it! and if you did, comments will be greatly appreciated!! 
> 
> only one last update left hehe! see y'all on christmas day~
> 
> come yell with me about markhyuck on twitter: soobiscuits


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MERRY MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!!
> 
> please enjoy this last super sappy chapter ^^

_And in the wrinkles on mine, I would write that you are loved._

\---

“Baby, do you remember where we stashed the wrapping papers?” 

Donghyuck whirls around, a ladle in hand. “Uh, probably somewhere in the storeroom? Or in the study room?” Then, it’s as though a lightbulb lit up when Donghyuck’s face brightens. Smiling, he says, “The study room! I’m pretty sure they’re on that shelf where we keep all our papers.” 

Mark barely manages to lift his hand to give his boyfriend an okay sign (instead of doing something dumb like throwing himself at his boyfriend to kiss him because _damn that’s a beautiful smile_ ) when Donghyuck blows him an air kiss. 

_Fuck_. That was unexpected. An air kiss from Donghyuck in all his kitchen glory—yellow apron with a cartoon sun printed on the tiny front pocket, and the aroma of jjachigye wafting around him. Mark really wants to throw himself at his boyfriend to kiss him absolutely _senseless_. 

He doesn’t. (Obviously.) Instead, Mark catches Donghyuck’s air kiss and brings it to his mouth (to consume the love) before bashfully blowing one back to his boyfriend. He scampers out of the kitchen right after, face and ears burning at the action he just did. Yet, a content, silly smile blooms across Mark’s face when he remembers Donghyuck’s beautiful smile. 

Mark’s giggling when he absentmindedly knocks his head straight onto a door frame with a rather loud _thunk_. He lets out a pained groan, hand coming up to rub at the throbbing spot on his head as he realises that his feet have somehow taken him to the study room. Mark mentally chides himself for being _dumb_ as he walks into the room, making a beeline for the shelf mentioned by Donghyuck.

He finds the basket of wrapping papers he wanted, and after debating between a metallic green or a solid red with tiny snowmen print, Mark chooses the cute red roll. He’s about to pry it out of the stack when a book next to the basket catches his eyes. 

“Oh my god. Is this what I think it is,” whispers Mark as he takes the familiar-looking book out. He gasps when he recognises it. It’s a photo book. Its cover already aged with time, corners torn and dog-eared. And when Mark gingerly flips it open, he’s greeted with faded photographs and handwritten captions. He claps a hand to his mouth and laughs behind it in the next moment. 

For the very first photo of the photo book shows infant Donghyuck in the arms of a one-year-old Mark. 

“‘ _8 June 2000_ ’,” reads Mark, incredulity washing over him as he drags a finger across the stated date. “‘ _Had to wait 2 days but I’m finally carried by Minhyung-hyung for the very first time!_ ’” 

It’s common for one to not remember their early childhood years and Mark is no exception. He really doesn’t have any recollection of this particular scene, or the rest of the photos slotted in the following couple of pages. Mark doesn’t remember always carrying Donghyuck around when they were wee lads ( _“Minhyung-hyung seems to really love carrying me around! [Even though he can’t!]”_ ), nor does he recall feeding Donghyuck milk or porridge or solids when he was able to ( _“Look at Minhyung feeding me! Yum!”_ ). Mark also doesn’t remember crying along with Donghyuck when they were both learning to cycle and Donghyuck apparently lost his balance and caused his bike to knock into Mark’s ( _“I’m so sorry, hyung! I didn’t mean to fall over!”_ ). 

(Mark, however, wishes he remembered the first time Donghyuck gave him a kiss on the cheek during their sixth Christmas together. Sitting in front of a Christmas tree and surrounded by presents, seven-year-old Mark looked absolutely pleased at that peck on the cheek by Donghyuck.) 

Yet, Mark doesn’t need these photos of their early years to know that he’s had Donghyuck by his side since they were in diapers. Both Mark and Donghyuck’s parents would always coo at the sight of them, telling them that _you’ve known each other for forever_. To a young Mark, ‘forever’ sounds long. And even now, twenty-eight-year-old Mark still thinks that ‘forever’ sounds like a really, really long time. 

He doesn’t mind, though. Forever with Donghyuck sounds wonderful, actually.

As Mark flips the pages and looks at the various photographs depicting his and Donghyuck’s years together, mirth and fondness gradually adorn his face. Happiness tugs at the corners of his lips as affection floods and swirls within his eyes; an expression not foreign for Mark’s face to form, not when Donghyuck elicits it so easily out of him every single day.

The last page of the photo book is reached, and as Mark looks at the last photograph, the smile on his face widens. Fondness seeps out from the finger he slowly trails along the lines of a young Donghyuck’s grinning face, leaving behind an invisible trail of affection that stains the photograph.

It’s an adorable photo. It shows Donghyuck being piggybacked by a young Mark, both their grins so damn bright and wide that their eyes formed crescents and couldn’t be seen. Donghyuck has an arm looped around Mark’s neck while the other rested on one of Mark’s shoulders and propped his chin up. Mark’s arms were looped securely under Donghyuck’s knees, both hands doing ‘V’ signs. 

Mark barely manages to tear his eyes away from the dazzling smile on young Donghyuck’s face to read the caption—

_“When I grow up, I’m going to be Minhyung-hyung’s <3”_

—only for the smile on his face to freeze as confusion washes over him. The handwriting is different. The person who wrote this caption wasn’t the one who wrote the rest—this one’s far too clumsy and inelegant. Mark’s pretty certain that Donghyuck’s mother had been the one who wrote every other caption since he recognises her handwriting from all the handwritten post-its she’d paste on the containers of the side dishes she personally delivers to their household.

Mark’s confusion only lasts for the brief moment he takes to identify the new handwriting before his smile unfreezes itself and blooms bigger. 

_‘25 August 2010’_. It’s been seventeen years since the caption was written but Donghyuck’s handwriting evidently hasn’t changed much over time—still as messy and somewhat illegible. Yet, it’s endearing how Donghyuck always curves the tails of his ‘g’s and ‘y’s, not in the least bothered about how _girly_ that is. 

(Donghyuck’s confidence regarding this only came about and stayed after Mark had thoroughly explained to Donghyuck that the way he wrote them was absolutely fine. 

_“You don’t see me being bothered by how they laugh at my super neat handwriting.”_

_“That’s because they’re jealous of how neat and legibly you write! Mine’s different–”_

_“No, it’s not. They’re just envious of how you have the courage to write your ‘g’s and ‘y’s in that manner.”_

_“… You think so?”_

_“I_ know _so, Hyuck.”_ )

Mark traces the curls of a ‘g’, chuckling under his breath as he imagines a ten-year-old Donghyuck bent over the photo book, scrawling this caption. _How… precious_ , Mark thinks as he traces another ‘g’.

But… why? Why did Donghyuck write this? And at a mere age of 10 years old?

“Because back then I already knew that I wanted to be yours.”

At the sudden entrance of Donghyuck’s voice, Mark jumps, startled. He gingerly turns around to see his boyfriend standing in the doorway of their study room. He’s still wearing that adorable apron of his, and a pair of rubber alligator gloves are on his hands; he must have checked on the turkey in the oven. The expression on Donghyuck’s face is unreadable.

“H-How–” Mark stammers, inexplicably nervous as though he’s being caught doing something illegal. “How did you–”

Donghyuck hums thoughtfully. “You were talking to yourself out loud again, sweetie. And, coincidentally, I was behind you when you were doing that, so I heard.” He points to the opened photo book in Mark’s hands. “And it’s pretty obvious that you’re on the last page, so I know which photo you’re talking about. After all, I do look through our photo books pretty often.”

 _Why were you looking through these books_ is a question Mark doesn’t get to verbalise before Donghyuck answers, as though he could read Mark’s thoughts. (Not a surprise, frankly. Mark usually is an open book to Donghyuck, and vice versa. Being in each other’s lives for almost three decades aren’t for naught.)

“It’s been a tough month,” Donghyuck softly says. “It was hard to fall asleep without you next to me in bed. And there’s only so much the photos in my phone could do before I got bored and needed more. So, I turned to our past.” He gestured in Mark’s direction, seemingly at the photo book in Mark’s hands. “To these precious treasures containing our precious memories.”

Scenes of Mark returning home to Donghyuck sleeping alone on their queen-sized bed, curled up into a ball atop of the comforter, his phone sometimes clutched in his hands, surface in Mark’s mind. Work required Mark to work over-time in the past month, causing him to return home at ungodly hours or on some nights never going back home at all. He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t neglect Donghyuck on most days.

“I’m sorry,” Mark instantly apologises. He knows that he’s apologised far more times than he can remember in the past month due to his late nights, and that Donghyuck had dismissed them all with an _it’s alright babe I understand_. But this, this apology, albeit extremely belated, is for the side of the story Donghyuck hadn’t told him. Knowing his boyfriend, Donghyuck probably kept it from Mark to not worry him. 

Selfless, he is. Donghyuck has always put Mark first, prioritised him above himself. It may be a virtue but at a time like this, Mark thinks of it as a double-edged sword. 

“I should have realised–”

“You couldn’t have known, and I didn’t tell you. So, it’s alrig–”

“I should have noticed it from the sudden increase of our photographs around the house.”

Donghyuck falls silent. He drops his head, hands clasped in front of him, fingers playing with one another. Mark knows he’s hit the nail on the head.

“I’m sorry, Hyuck. I should have known.”

Silence. Then, just when Mark opens his mouth, about to call out to his love, to apologise once more, to seek forgiveness, Donghyuck lifts his head and smiles the smallest of smiles.

It’s a tiny smile, the corners of his lips barely curved upwards, but it’s enough for Mark to identify the resolve seeping into Donghyuck. 

“It’s okay, Minhyung,” he says. Determination swirls within Donghyuck’s eyes. “I’m alright now.”

And who is Mark to disagree? 

He doesn’t. Mark does, however, thank Donghyuck. He didn’t say what the simple _thank you_ is for, but Mark knows Donghyuck knows. He’s always been an open book in front of his boyfriend. 

“Also, thank you for wanting to be mine,” Mark continues to say. “Thank you for coming into my life twenty-seven years ago.”

That tiniest of smile on Donghyuck’s face blooms, and as with every time Donghyuck just _smiles_ , Mark’s heart swells. Rooted within, Mark’s fondness that’s specially reserved for Donghyuck blossoms and blossoms and blossoms. 

“Thank you, too, for being willing to carry me twenty-seven years ago,” Donghyuck replies. “I remember your mother telling me that you actually held me until I fell asleep and that your arms were numb.”

Mark laughs. He sets the photo book down onto the desk before traipsing over to Donghyuck. Wasting no time, Mark circles his arms around his boyfriend’s waist, rests his forehead on Donghyuck’s. He easily captures his boyfriend’s gaze, sees the delight swirling within Donghyuck’s beautiful eyes. Pecking Donghyuck on the lips, Mark chuckles against them when Donghyuck lets out a breathy gasp of surprise. 

“Mark–”

“If you’d let me, sweetheart, I’ll carry you forever.”

“… You really do say the darnest of things,” Donghyuck mutters, an ever-pretty flush rapidly spreading over his face. Then, an afterthought. “Even when we’re old and have wrinkles on our faces, on our arms and legs, and in places we didn’t know could get wrinkles? Will you still piggy-back me then?”

“If you’d let me, Donghyuck, I will. Gladly.”

Donghyuck parts his lips, definitely about to say something but Mark beats him to the punch.

“I love you.”

The pout on Donghyuck’s face spells his displeasure at being intercepted, but it stretches into that of a pleased, content smile in the next moment when Mark kisses him. 

“Thank you for choosing me when you could have had anyone else,” Mark whispers.

“I would _never_ have anyone else,” Donghyuck whispers back. “I love you, my Minhyung.”

“And I, too, my love.”

(The next morning, if Donghyuck notices how _that_ photograph and the caption he wrote are suddenly encased in a frame and put up on the wall directly opposite the door of their bedroom, he doesn’t mention it. 

He does, however, reward his boyfriend with a kiss that speaks of their love for forever.

Donghyuck then rescues their about-to-be-burnt breakfast—eggs—by butting Mark away from the stove and putting him on permanent pour-the-milk duty.)

\---

_If I wrote a book about you, I would write it everywhere, and it would tell all the world, and all the world would tell how wonderful you are._

\---

(As Mark shuts the book and caps his pen, the door opens, and Donghyuck’s head peeks through the gap. "Sweetie, dinnertime!"

“Be right there,” Mark says, sticking back the pen into the pens cup before getting up and slotting the book next to a photo book. A pair of arms suddenly circle his waist, warm breath fanning a side of his face. 

“Will I ever get to see what you've been writing in that book?”

Mark chuckles. “I'm not too sure when,” he replies. “But you'll definitely get to see it one day.” Mark turns around, or at least he _attempts_ to. Amusement washes over him when Donghyuck’s hands grip onto his shirt tightly. 

Due to his boyfriend’s arms around his waist, Mark can't turn himself around to face Donghyuck, but he's alright with it. And so, they stay like that, Donghyuck leaning on Mark, chest on back. Mark laces his fingers with his boyfriend’s, the movement natural, the fit absolutely perfect. Living up to his ‘reputation’ of being a summer baby, Donghyuck’s chest is so so warm against Mark’s back, and Mark can't help but smile. 

“Thank you for not reading it in secret though, Hyuck.”

Donghyuck blows a soft, playful raspberry. It tickles Mark’s ear. “How do you know I haven't read it yet.” His fingers, along with Mark’s, slide past the hem of Mark’s jumper, skin meeting with skin. Donghyuck’s fingertips feel like they're on fire. Or maybe Mark’s just cold from the December chill.

“Because I trust that you haven't,” Mark muses. He gently bops his boyfriend’s head with his head, earning himself a breathy giggle. “I trust you, sweetheart.”

Mark can feel happiness emanating from Donghyuck. His back grows warmer, the pressure around his waist comfortably tightens. 

“Promise that you'll show it to me one day?” Donghyuck’s chest rumbles as he whispers into Mark’s ear. “Promise?”

Mark nods. “I promise.” 

“Okay,” Donghyuck says. Then, a heartbeat later. “Love you, Markie.”

Another heartbeat later. “I love you, too, Duckie.”)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as a preschool teacher it gives me great joy to be able to share one of my favourite children's book with y'all through a story featuring two of my favourite people in the world. all the italicised sentences were taken from the book ‘If I Wrote a Book About You’; it’s the sweetest book ever. do read it in your local bookstore if they stock it! the illustrations that accompany these beautiful sentences are wonderful.
> 
> also, thank you for accompanying me (and markhyuck) through december! pray for hyuck's recovery! 
> 
> as always, comments are greatly appreciated hehe
> 
> once again, merry christmas everyone! please have a wonderful day and have lots of sweets!! (for me, i'm gonna go gorge on chocolate log cakes now ^^)
> 
> twitter: soobiscuits


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